


Lights Out

by doomtwinkie (shinysparks)



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: CW: vomit, Crack Treated Seriously, Drabble, Eventual Smut, F/M, I've had waaaaay too much caffeine, Ichabbie Spring, Sequel, Smut and Crack, There's a plot here I swear, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?, clothes? what clothes?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-05-02 22:35:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14555013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinysparks/pseuds/doomtwinkie
Summary: When the power goes out during a severe storm, Abbie and Ichabod have to find a way to entertain themselves in the dark. WHATEVER WILL THEY DO WITH THEMSELVES?*wink wink nod nod nudge nudge*A sequel toSmallclothes.





	1. The Storm

Abbie had to tell him.

It’d been two weeks since she’d found out; two weeks freaking out, of planning, of... puking. There’d been a _lot_ of puking; so much, in fact, that Crane had noticed. He’d been sweet, though, keeping her supplied with crackers and holding her head when things got bad. He never complained; not even when she barfed on his boots.

She was pregnant, and she had to tell him.

“Hey, Crane?” She said, looking at him, “I’m... uh...”

_BOOM!_

Thunder rumbled loudly, and the power flickered on and off, before finally going out.

“Uh-oh,” she muttered instead.


	2. The Outage

“Damn it,” she said, tossing her phone onto the counter, “lightning hit a transformer.”

Crane stared at her perplexed, his face illuminated by candlelight.

“Basically, no power until sometime tomorrow,” she said, as more thunder boomed in the distance, “at the earliest.”  
“Oh no, whatever shall we do!” he scoffed, deadpan, “how will we ever survive without the wonders of electricity?!”

He smirked at her.

“I forgot, you’re used to this.”  
“I am.”  
“So, tell me: what did people do back then on cold, stormy nights, Crane?” She asked, winking.

He burst into a naughty grin.

“Uh-oh,” Abbie whispered, smiling.


	3. A Helping Hand

He’d built a nice fire.

Abbie nuzzled up to Crane, her hand wrapped around his. A blanket covered their nakedness. They were warm; it was romantic; it was bliss; however, she still couldn’t relax. She still had to tell him.

“Crane?” She said, dropping his hand and pushing herself up, “I need to tell you something.”

She reached under the blanket and took his hand again, gripping his long, warm appendage firmly for support (and causing him to squeal ever-so-slightly...)

“I need to tell you something, too, Leftenant,” he squeaked.  
“Yeah?” She asked.  
“That’s... uh... not my hand you’re holding...”


	4. Magic Fingers

“No contest this time, Leftenant?”  
“No.”  
“So, I can stop holding back?”  
“You’re holding back?! Damn it, Crane! I’m getting carpal tunnel here!”  
“I have no feeling in my fingers, either.”  
“Oh.”  
“Oh?”  
“It just... it explains a few things.”  
“Like what?”  
“Like how your magic fingers aren’t magical right now. Honestly, Crane: why do you think I’ve been squeezing you so damned hard! I thought you needed a little _motivation!_ ”  
“I need circulation! As glorious as your rear is, Treasure, it’s cutting off all blood flow.”

They sighed, and then stopped.

“We need a bigger couch, don’t we, Leftenant?”


	5. Straddled

She had to tell him.

Abbie lay straddled over the couch; one foot hanging over the back, the other on the floor. Her toes curled up in the rug below, and she breathed harder and harder...

_He needs to know,_ she thought, straining to focus against every prickle his beard made on her thighs; and every movement he made with his mouth.

His fingers might still be numb, but his _tongue_ certainly wasn’t.

“Crane? I’m... I’m... _oh my god_...” she gasped, back arching as her world exploded into bliss and light.

She had to tell him... but it could wait.


	6. Ice Cream and Pickles

He stared at her in shock, in disbelief, and in horror.

“I... I believe the stove still works,” he muttered, watching as Abbie dipped a pickle into a pint of ice cream, “I could make us something to eat...”  
“Nah,” Abbie mumbled, “we need to eat the ice cream before it melts.”

Crane plopped down onto one of the stools, still staring as Abbie crunched the pickle. Grabbing a pint, he reached over to pick up a spoon, but Abbie stopped him, smirking.

She pulled another pickle from the jar, and he gulped.

“How much do you love me, Crane?”


	7. The Horror

She’d meant it as a joke, of course; but instead, he’d crammed the pickle into the ice cream and bit into it with as much gusto as he could manage. There had been a pause (and a grimace,) but he’d continued on until he’d swallowed the whole thing.

When he’d reached for another pickle, she placed her hand on his and sighed.

“You don’t...” she began.  
“I would do anything for you,” he said, “always.”

She looked at him. He looked at her.

Five seconds later, they were both on the countertop, eating everything _but_ the ice cream and pickles...


	8. A Speck of Dust

Abbie could always tell moments before he came, feeling the shift of energy that flowed within him. She’d smile, relishing in her power before boldly pushing him over the edge. Body acting of its own volition, he’d rise up ever-so-slighty, twitching, fingers wiggling; and then he’d fall back, stiff as a board. He’d lay there, stunned, breathing raggedly, his oh-so-weird brain flooded with bliss.

Once the warm glow of euphoria had dissipated, he’d stare up at her with reverence and adoration, as if she were a goddess and he were nothing more than a speck of dust in her universe...


End file.
